The Tale of Shartan
by DefinitelyNotPie
Summary: Fenris experiences a few moments in the years that follow his night with Marian.


When Fenris had left Hawke, naked and disheveled, in her bedroom, he had expected that she would never speak to him again.

There had been a time after the events of that night where she had avoided him. And even worse, Anders had stepped in to speak for her during that time. It only made sense that any comfort Hawke might have needed after Fenris's cowardly rejection of her would have been swiftly rendered by that damned apostate.

But despite that, he couldn't being himself to be angry with anyone but himself and as it turned out, it was only a few weeks before he received a missive that she wanted him to accompany her on a trip to the Bone Pit.

He had foolishly hoped she would be happy to see him, and while she did appear more sedate in his presence she was not her typical self. She was paler, looked piqued and exhausted. Anders had been all but fused to her hip, within arm's reach every time she stumbled or wavered. Varric was also more cautious and attentive, no rambling or joking. Just concern and rapt attention to their surroundings and their leader.

By the end of the mission, Hawke was all but propped against a far wall, weakly lobbing arrows from a bow she picked up along the way. Fenris had little trouble bearing the brunt of the attack, while Varric and Anders covered his movement and kept him shielded from the worst of it.

Once they managed to fell the dragon, they took a moment to catch their breath. Fenris turned to see Hawke push herself off the wall, turn from the passage, and vomit.

Anders was at her side before Fenris could even process that he should put one foot before the other to rush to her aid. Instead he stood dumbly, watching the Warden mage put his hands on Hawke, on her back, her heart, while she cussed and swatted at him stubbornly.

Fenris couldn't hear the harsh whispers between them, didn't see Varric watching him nervously as he clenched his fists, drawing a dull glow from his markings as a jealous ire skittered just beneath his skin.

From his vantage, Hawke relented to Anders ministrations, allowing him to ease her to the stone floor while he chanted softly, his magic pouring over her, a soft blue light.

Fenris had lost his capacity for tolerance, and announced he would wait outside. All eyes turned to him, but the ones that gave him the greatest pause were Anders. Instead of the harsh, burning disdain he normally expected, Anders brown eyes were soft and almost sad. Fenris felt pitied, and he trudged angrily out of the chamber with a growl.

* * *

It was almost a year before Fenris saw Hawke again.

After that trip to the Bone Pit, Hawke had almost exclusively withdrawn into her mansion. All jobs were managed by Anders or Aveline, even ones Fenris had been requested on.

Hawke never joined them.

So he was surprised to see her one morning perusing the stalls with a basket, Orana following closely behind with a bundle in her arms, accompanying her mistress through the marketplace in Hightown.

He furrowed his brow curiously.

_I didn't realize Orana had been expecting._

Granted, he'd had little interaction with the girl since she first came to Hawke's estate to work. After the incident with Hadriana, and all that followed, Fenris had kept his distance from Hawke. The few exceptions being when she called on him for assistance with jobs about town.

He watched the elf cradle the babe, singing softly and gently bouncing it in her arms. Hawke turned to them a few times to coo at the child and stroke its face with her fingers while Orana looked on appreciatively. It struck him then, that Orana must have been pregnant when they first encountered her on the Wounded Coast.

The thought that one of Hadriana's minions or even Denarius himself had put the child in her, almost certainly against the girl's will, made his stomach tightened and lurch. But then, a rush of relief and adoration for Hawke washed over him, knowing it was her quick thinking and kindness that allowed the poor slave to have a safe place to raise the child.

While he looked on, his thoughts swirling about him, the two women moved off towards another stall and disappeared into the bustle. Fenris fought the compulsion to follow. To approach. To _engage_… somehow. Instead he stood staring at the absence of the women, until he too was swallowed by the crowd.

* * *

Fenris knelt quietly at the feet of Andraste, quietly mumbling what he knew of the Chant. Thus far, he'd managed to keep this side of himself hidden from his companions, dare he say _friends_. The only one who knew was Sebastian, who thus far had been decent enough to keep it to himself, greeting him politely whenever their paths crossed in the Chantry.

The sanctuary was rather empty for the afternoon, and the soft murmurings of other patrons could be heard over the din of the few worshipers at prayer. One voice stood out, drawing him from his veneration.

"It's not been too bad. He's started sleeping through the night, mostly. Still, Orana is a natural it seems, she almost doesn't even need my help!" Marian laughed.

Fenris had stopped his vigil to turn toward the sound of his former lover's voice. She was standing back near the antechamber door, with Sebastian awkwardly cradling a baby in his arms. The Marcher laughed with her, despite his obvious uncertainty in holding the child.

"That's good though, yes? You get more rest and have more time to yourself. Though, I suppose I could understand not wanting too much time to yourself." Sebastian remarked.

Marian shrugged, "Oh he's still a handful. I can't help but wonder if he got that from his father."

Fenris's stomach churned at the thought of the father - whomever he was - that Hawke could so casually wonder about him in such a way and he grimaced to himself.

"Oh surely not his _father_…" Sebastian seemed to tease. Marian just laughed, shaking her head and scooping the baby from the man's arms.

"I think I'm getting the hang of that." He remarked, shrugging.

Hawke smiled at him, "You'll be a pro in no time."

* * *

Fenris let himself into the Hawke estate, figuring that Bodahn and Sandal were likely otherwise occupied following the grisly event of Lady Leandra's untimely death. As he stepped into the foyer, he saw Aveline standing with the dwarven manservant, a small child in her arms with its head cradled against her shoulder. Bodahn was handing her a large duffel bag.

"That ought to tide you over for a few days. You're a real friend to help out, I don't know how we'd have managed." The dwarf's voice was low and sad, Fenris could see the pain they were both feeling in their postures.

He furrowed his brow, wondering why Aveline would be taking the baby from the grieving house. Perhaps Orana and Lady Leandra were closer than he had known. The guard-captain nodded at him as she left, and as downtrodden as she already looked, the sight of him seemed to sadden her further and she tightened her arms around the child, who peered curiously at him from under the hood of his small cloak.

Had he not been distracted by Hawke's considerable grief, he's have wondered on the child's piercing green eyes.

Moving through Lowtown one afternoon, Fenris spotted Varric lingering around the bazaar outside of the Hanged Man. He approached the dwarf, who was laughing at something behind the booth of the armorer.

"Well, you're the very image of your ma, nuglet."

As Fenris stepped up to the stall behind Varric he could see a small child standing somewhat wobbly next to a shelf of helmets; a thick leather cap sat atop its tiny head, almost completely obscuring its face.

Fenris huffed a soft laugh, his lips quirking into the vaguest semblance of a smile.

"Varric." He said in greeting.

The dwarf startled, whipping his head around. Fenris could have sworn he saw a sliver of fear in his friend's eye, before the rogue slipped back into his natural suave demeanor. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the child, who took a step forward before promptly falling on its behind with a huff.

"Fenris!" Varric said, louder than was necessary, Fenris thought. "What brings you to these parts? Can't be the scenery."

"I was just wandering." He nodded toward the child, who was struggling to get back on their feet while refusing to remove the cap, "Friend of yours?"

There was a breath of hesitation, "Yeah, I'm just doing a friend a favor; keeping an eye on the little nug while his mother runs an errand."

Fenris looked carefully at Varric, considering, searching for that ghost of apprehension, but found none.

"Well, you seem to need both eyes, so I'll leave you to it. Do take care." He said, motioning toward the child, now pulling itself to standing under a table of steel greaves. Varric looked and darted over to grab the child.

"Watch it, shorty!" Fenris heard the dwarf cry as he turned in the direction of Hightown and walked away.

* * *

"If there is a future to be had I will walk into it gladly at your side."

For the first time in three years, Fenris felt complete. It wasn't killing Denerius, or the knowledge that he was now well and truly free. It was Hawke's admission that her affection for him had never waned. The realization that she had waited for him. Forgiven him.

They had embraced, and kissed. Held fast for what felt like an eternity, which still wasn't long enough. She pulled back, brushing the fringe from his eyes before cupping his face in her hands. She looked happy, but there was a hesitation behind her eyes. Doubt in the lines of her face. It hurt his heart that she might feel any fraction of distrust towards his intentions, but he couldn't blame her.

She took a deep breath and chewed her lip nervously, shaking her head.

"I can't do this." She began, and his chest tightened, "I want to, so badly, but first there's…" she took a deep breath, then forced a smile,

"Can we go for a walk? Get some air?" She changed course, and Fenris nodded hesitantly.

The streets of Hightown were not overly crowded, which was surprising given how sublime the weather had been of late.

They walked in silence for a few minutes while Hawke seemed to be gathering her thoughts. As anxious as he was, Fenris gave her attentive silence.

"I have to tell you something." Hawke started.

A thousand thoughts tumbled across his mind at what she could mean, and he watched her face for any tell in her expression.

"I never meant for it to happen this way. After that night, everything you had been through - I didn't think it was right… I decided to wait. Give you the time and space you needed… and just… hoped that you'd come around, I suppose?

"But… then a year went by, and then two years… and you still didn't… I didn't think you wanted…" she sighed heavily, "It felt like if I did tell you, that you wouldn't care. I couldn't believe it, but it felt that way. And you were so occupied with finding Denerius, or him finding you, you were… It felt like telling you would be… well, _dangerous_."

She turned to look at him, "I never stopped hoping that one day… that you'd want us to be together. But we can't be, not until you know… not unless you can forgive me…"

"Hawke…" his heart was breaking, "I would forgive you anything. I was a fool and a coward. I should never have left as I did. Should never have left you to feel all that, to go through all that you have alone." He reached for her hand.

"I'm here now." He looked at her, silently pleading. She gave him a weak smile, her eyes glistening with tears. She took his other hand and squeezed them both, as if concentrating all her strength on them.

Finally, she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

"Fenris, that night-"

A woman shrieked in the crowd and they both turned their heads toward the commotion. The crowd was churning, waving in a slithering pattern and parting, as gasps of surprise rose over the din.

"Mama! Mama!" A small voice chanted within the crowd, growing louder and clearer as the people weaved and swayed.

Hawke's brow furrowed, her head cocking ever so slightly as she seemed to shift to high alert as the people before them jumped apart and a small figure dashed toward them.

Hawke dropped to her knees, her arms thrown wide as she reached for the figure charging her.

"Shartan!" She cried, her voice tight with both panic and relief, "Maker's breath! What are you doing out here?!"

"Mama!"

Time seemed to slow. The edges of his vision blurred and the bustle of the crowd became a muffled and distant ringing.

As it leapt into Hawke's arms, the figure revealed itself to be a small boy; with a shock of white hair, enormous green eyes and a smile as bright as the sun.

Fenris couldn't move. He could only watch as the world began to roll in slow motion, and he struggled to listen past the ringing in his ears.

"Darling, how did you get out here?!" Hawke repeated her question to the child, now clinging to her happily and oblivious to her panic, as she pressed her lips to his hair and clutched his tiny body tightly.

A shout; and Orana emerged from the blur.

"My lady, I am so sorry! I had to come to the market and there was no one to watch the little master. I didn't think it would be a problem, he's usually very good at staying with me. He must have seen you in the crowd and took off. I'm so, so sorry mistress!"

The elf's eyes were red with tears, her face a mask of terror and grief.

Hawke shook her head rapidly, running a quick hand down Orana's shoulder to reassure her.

The women continued speaking but their voices were swallowed by the static in his ears.

Fenris's eyes fell to the child, now resting his head gingerly on his mother's shoulder and staring right at back him.

For a moment. For an _eternity_, Fenris and the boy just looked at one another. The dull creeping blur that had surrounded his sight began to shake and the smothered hum of the world moving around him roared into a crescendo as the boy lifted his head and spoke.

"Hello!"

His tiny voice rang out across the muted, throbbing din; shattering the daze and bringing the whole of reality crashing to the ground in a million twinkling pieces. Even the women stopped abruptly, both turning suddenly to look at the child, who was looking at the strange man beside his mother.

Hawke gasped, seeming to have forgotten Fenris was even standing there in her brief moment of panic at her son having taken off alone in the busy Hightown market. She turned to him bodily and the boy swung his head around to keep watching.

"Fenris…" Any softer and her voice would have been lost on the breeze. She took a step closer, and adjusted her hold on the child.

"This is Shartan… our son…"

"Son..." Fenris said, almost to himself. The child, Shartan, was still looking at him with a happy, open expression on his tiny face. Fenris thought on all the times he'd met the boy before, and how each time the truth had been right in front of him but he was too wrapped up in his own head to notice.

His breath caught in his throat and without a thought he raised his arms towards the boy in offering. Marian tensed only for a moment before Shartan practically leapt from her to Fenris, who caught the boy with a gasp.

"Hello." Fenris said, looking reverently at his son. He opened his mouth to say something more but paused, looking questioningly at Marian for permission to an unspoken request. She gave him a watery smile, her eyes glistening, and nodded.

Fenris smiled, wide and genuine, then turned his eyes back to Shartan.

"My name is Fenris," he said, "I'm your papa."

A future to be had indeed.


End file.
